


We Are Real

by Drarry_Scarred



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Dark, Insane Harry Potter, Kidnapping, M/M, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:12:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3281507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarry_Scarred/pseuds/Drarry_Scarred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The real monsters don't have claws or fangs. They don't star in supernatural thrillers or only come out at night. No. The real monsters look just like you and me. They're the evil you invite in with open arms and warm smiles. They hide behind masks, not revealing their true selves, until its much too late for you. They're the sweet child abandoned young. They're the neighbour you pass on your daily run. They're the one night stand gone oh so wrong...</p>
<p>We are real.<br/>And you will see.<br/>The World is Not,<br/>What it seems.</p>
<p>(EDITED AND PARTIALLY REWRITTEN: 03/09/15-Give it another read if you already have before I changed it up)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are Real

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been changed a bit (mostly at the beginning, but a bit all throughout) since I first posted it, so if you've already read it, give it another go. This does not have a beta, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone. Feedback would be fantastic! Thanks to those who left any feedback before I changed it up! Enjoy!
> 
> Warning: Umm...I'm not sure if I should warn for this or not, so I'm going to. There is NO Non-Con in this fic, but it's kind of implied that it will happen in the future, soooo yeah beware of that, and this isn't a nice fic, so yeah. Sorry if it isn't your cup of tea...
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I claim to. I make no profit from this. It is purely for fun! BUT the poem mixed into that one scene is mine. I created it. Please don't steal it. It's much appreciated!

_******_

 

Fear.

Fear is tangible. It’s incapacitating, and its exhilarating.

Fear manipulates, inducing different reactions from its subjects.

Some are lost to it. Drowning in the panic it produces. Losing themselves in the pure, unadulterated terror. Their blood runs cold and burns hot simultaneously. Their actions and reactions are hindered. They fall beneath its waves, begging for the air...the release that may never come.

Others thrive on it. Adrenaline rushing through their veins, sharpening the world around them. Their bodies becoming well oiled machines. They move on its fumes, and fight to escape its grasp. Working towards a salvation they may never reach.

Fear.

Fear is tangible. It’s incapacitating, and its exhilarating.

Fear...is real.   

_******_

**~Now~**

“Oh, God...oh...my God…” Remus gasps, between ragged breaths. His muscles tense, strung tight by the panic coursing through him.

“Oh my God. Calm down. J-jus-just...calm down,” He insists to himself, shifting in his restraints. They pull taut and loosen with each movement. Dragging in deep breaths, he forces himself to freeze, to sit still, and take in what he can about his situation.

He’s lying naked, spread eagle, on what appears to be a mattress. A rather comfortable one at that, but that’s really besides the point. He tugs on his bindings, feeling a slight give before they snap back to their taut pull. Panic rushes back in at the feel of the restriction, but he pushes it down.

The rope has rubbed his wrists and ankles raw, warm trails of blood slowly seeping down his arms and ankles. It’s pitch black, but that’s because of the blindfold covering the top half of his face. The material is heavy, dripping with sweat, and burning his eyes. His muscles are tense...straining, pleading to flee.

His ears strain, struggling to hear the slightest noise, waiting for his captor to come back. “How long have I been here?” he wonders aloud, his voice harsh and gravelly from disuse.

He never thought this could happen to him... _him_ of all people! The most ordinary person you’d ever meet. The slight recluse, who avoided relationships...who preferred quick flings and short acquaintances, avoiding at all costs his past. The person writing a book, and teaching at a posh boarding school.

How did this happen to him?

Sagging back against the mattress, any shred of fight leaving his body, Remus loses himself to thought. He wishes, God he wishes that he had never set foot in _The Sundial_. Then maybe, just maybe, this all could have been avoided.

_******_

**~Before~**

The town was just waking up for the night when Remus Lupin left his apartment. The setting sun acting as a backdrop, haloing the buildings in its soft light, a mess of colors slowly fading to black.

Remus heads towards a bar on the outskirts of the small town of Hogsmeade, watching as the moon slowly makes its ascent. As a child, he had feared the moon. It was a connection to the night his father died. A representation of the brutal attack he had suffered. The sight of the full moon made him nauseous, flashes of Greyback, the notorious serial killer, dancing behind his eyes.

The moon made him believe that there were monsters in the dark. But that was years ago, and this was now, and the moon meant nothing to him, and monsters didn’t exist. The moon was nothing but an ominous presence that he could easily ignore.

The bar he’s heading to is discreet and not known by many, but that’s what Remus wants. A night surrounded by strangers, where he’s not known. One more night, just to himself.

Next week, he starts his first term teaching at the local boarding school, Hogwarts. It’s privately funded and prestigious. He went to it in his youth, and has missed it greatly since. When he was offered a job teaching Literature there, he couldn’t pass it up. Now though, all he wants is a discreet place to get drunk and possibly get laid.

He waves cigarette smoke away from his face, as he approaches the _The Sundial’s_ front entrance. Leaving the cobblestone streets and rising moon behind, Remus enters the small pub. He goes straight for the bar once inside, taking a seat, and ordering a beer. The barroom chatter and sounds of a game of pool, fade into the background as Remus gets lost in thoughts of his new job.

“Haven’t seen you around before,” Remus jumps, torn from his thoughts by a warm, deep voice next to his ear. He turns meeting the striking emerald green gaze of a young man. He’s bewildered by the familiarity of those green eyes. He’s sure he’s never met this man before. He has to only be in his earlier twenties, possibly younger. Remus doesn’t know many people that age.

“You wouldn’t have. I just moved here a month ago.” Remus replies, curious about this stunning young man, despite himself.

The stranger runs his hand through his already ruffled black hair, revealing a glimpse of a faded scar on his forehead and smiles, an open warm smile that pulls at something in Remus’s chest. It’s been awhile since Remus has been able to smile that openly at someone. “Welcome to our quaint little corner of the world, then,” The stranger says, cockily.

Remus smiles at that and finds himself entertaining the idea of taking this young man home. He quickly shuts down that train of thought down. Where had that even come from? The guy was way too young.

Add in Remus’s age, and the very thought is absurd. Sure, thirty-six isn’t ancient, but its old for someone as young as the boy sitting before him. Remus almost laughs aloud at the course of his thoughts.

“I’m Harry, by the way.” The boy says pulling him from his thoughts.

“Remus,” He replies, sipping from his beer. The movement draws Harry’s eyes, and it doesn’t escape Remus’s attention when they linger on his lips wrapped around the bottle’s opening.

“How about I buy you something a little stronger than that, Remus?” Harry asks. Before Remus can reply, Harry flags down the bartender and orders two fire whiskies. He turns back towards Remus, “You’ve never had good whiskey, until you’ve tried their fire whiskey.”

They fall into idle small talk after that, and when the fire whiskey comes, Remus agrees. It’s definitely the best whiskey he’s ever had.

As the night wears on, Remus finds himself admiring the fine specimen before him more and more. His tanned skin. His broad shoulders underneath a tight black long sleeve T-shirt, with the sleeves pushed up to the elbows, showing off strong forearms. Pale blue jeans with holes in the knees leading down to converses, clinging perfectly to the line of his leg. God, does Remus want him.

He knows Harry feels the same way. The way he discreetly scoots closer until the line of their thighs touch, sending a trail of fire down Remus’s leg at the contact. The way his eyes linger a little too long on Remus’ lips when ever he takes a drink. The small comments and hints he drops, declaring his interest.

After a half hour of this, Remus can no longer take it. The alcohol lowering his morals and the aching want in the pit of his stomach, pushes him over the edge. He’s just about to make a move when Harry does first. Harry’s hand presses to his forearm, green eyes darkened with lust, gaze up at him from under a fringe of black, “How about we head out?” he asks, innocently enough, while his eyes suggest anything but innocence. 

Remus nods, not trusting himself to speak, and stands, throwing some money onto the bar and heading towards the door. Harry follows an inch behind him. Once outside, they walk side by side. Remus automatically heading for his flat. Harry following.

They walk closely together, shoulders brushing teasingly, putting them both on edge. Harry’s knuckles keep brushing his, and that small contact of skin starts a fire burning low, in the pit of his stomach.

  
_We are real._   
_Beings of the Night._

Without warning, Harry grabs him by the upper arm, pulling him into an alleyway, and shoving him against a wall. His warm, lithe body presses flat against Remus’s, his erection digging into Remus’s hip. Grinding his hips slowly into Remus’s, Harry smiles mischievously up at the man, before smashing their mouths together.

  
_Creatures Baying,_   
_Waiting For the Light._

Remus moans as their tongues fight for dominance. Harry pulls abruptly away from the kiss, dropping to his knees. He fumbles with Remus’s belt buckle, eager fingers brushing against Remus’s hard length. Remus lets out a small moan, head falling back against the bricks.

Somewhere in the haze of lust, Remus remembers where they are. He forces his head up, and stops Harry’s hands, where they’re undoing his belt. Harry looks up at him, green eyes filled with inquiry and worry. Remus is quick to assuage the fear, “Not here. Let’s go to my place. It’s just around the corner.”

  
_We are real._   
_Disguises are our Guise._

Harry nods, pupils still blown wide with lust. They practically run to the apartment, getting there in record time. Remus flings the door open, having not bothered to lock it when leaving.

He pulls Harry inside, closes the door, and pushes him up against it, pinning the younger man’s body there. Harry kisses him, but Remus pulls away, nibbling his way along the younger man’s jaw. Reaching his neck he begins to grind his denim clad erection into Harry’s. The combination of sensations leaves Harry moaning and writhing beneath him.

  
_Darkest Hours,_   
_No one to be our alibi._

Harry grips his upper arms in a surprisingly strong hold, and flips their positions, dropping to his knees in a mockery of the alleyway. This time though, Remus doesn’t stop him. He stares down, watching as his belt and jeans are undone, the tugging of the rough fabric against his erection making him moan.

Harry grips the fabric, pulling it down to Remus’s knees, freeing the aching member trapped within. Remus’s head thunks back against the wood of the door and a guttural moan escapes him as Harry grips the base of his erection and flicks his tongue out along the slit.

  
_We are real._   
_And you will see._

He toys with Remus, trailing his tongue along the underside, pressing it firmly against the vein that runs there, swirling his tongue around the head, denying the man what he truly wants. Remus blindly reaches out and grips two handfuls of Harry’s dark hair in his fists, ragged breaths escaping his mouth. Just when he’s on the brink of begging, Harry pops the head of Remus’s erection into his mouth, slowly taking the length in, inch by throbbing inch.

  
_The World is Not,_   
_What it seems._

Remus has to lock his knees to keep them from buckling as the wet, warmth surrounds him, “Oh, God.” He breathes. He falls into the sensation of Harry’s mouth on him, feeling the pleasure build, his peak growing nearer.  “Stop,” he finally rasps out, “Or I’m going to come.”

  
_We are real._   
_The fear you Feel._

Harry pulls off, smirking up at him, his vaguely familiar green eyes, dancing with mischief. Remus pulls him to his feet, kissing him roughly, kicking his shoes and pants off as he does. Free of the fabric, Remus murmurs against Harry’s lips, “Let’s go to the bedroom.” Harry nods, fingers going to the hem of Remus’s shirt, diverging it from his body, so the older man stands naked before him.

“You are wearing entirely too many clothes,” Remus comments, running his eyes over Harry’s fully dressed body.

“We can take care of that,” Harry says, kicking off his shoes. When he’s down to just his jeans, Remus grabs his hand tugging him to the bedroom. He pushes him backwards onto the bed.

  
_The blood you Bleed._   
_The pain is our Cuisine._

Harry scoots farther towards the center of the bed, beckoning Remus to follow. Remus does, crawling naked towards him, a predatory glint in his eye, moving in a graceful crawl that doesn’t appear human. Muscles flex visibly under the expanse of smooth skin, interrupted here and there by scars from a tragic past.

  
_We are real._   
_Beings of Night,_

He reaches the younger man, shoving him flat on his back. He straddles Harry’s denim clad thighs and attacks his neck. Nibbling his way down, he trails his mouth along the protruding collar bones, enjoying the sensation of the younger man’s writhing form against his naked body.

He continues on his path, stopping at each nipple, rolling them between his teeth and sucking until Harry cries out, “Fuck!” Reaching his naval, Remus dips his tongue into it before nosing along the trail of hair that disappears into the denim that’s stretched tight over Harry’s straining member. Remus mouths at it through the fabric, Harry’s breath catching in his throat, his hips jerking upward of their own accord.

  
_Disguised as Light,_   
_To the victims’ eyes._

Smirking at the younger man’s reaction, Remus divests Harry of the rest of his clothing. He engulfs the younger boy, taking him all in, easily ignoring his gag reflex from experience. “F-fu-fuck,” Harry stutters out, hands fisted in the sheets, hips bucking off the bed.

Remus holds his hips down, finding a rhythm that has Harry’s muttering a litany of curses and moans. Pulling off before he can come, Remus slides gracefully off the bed, to whimpers of protest from the younger man, which stop quickly when he reappears with a condom and lube.

  
_We are real._   
_You should know._

“Roll over,” Remus commands. Harry obeys, no argument. His unquestioning obedience makes Remus moan. Harry props himself up on his knees, resting his head against his forearms. Remus runs his hands down the smooth exposed flesh, caressing the skin. Harry arches into the touch.

  
_Yet our stories remain,_   
_Forever Untold._

Remus liberally coats his fingers in lube, slowly working one into Harry. He takes his time, enjoying the act, preparing him slowly, drawing it out and teasing, until the boy is a moaning, writhing wreck beneath his ministrations.

He keeps going until he has three fingers moving smoothly in and out, with Harry rocking back against them, back arched beautifully. He pulls his fingers out, ripping the condom open, and expertly rolling it onto his neglected length.

  
_We are real._   
_It’s too late to believe._

Harry turns around, green eyes smoldering, “I want to ride you.” He says, voice deep and guttural. Remus’s eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t fight Harry when he grabs his wrist, and gently pushes him onto his back. Harry straddles him, slowly sliding down onto Remus cock, head thrown back, stuttering out, “F-fu-fuck!” Remus moans, as he’s slowly enveloped in the tight heat.

They set a fast rhythm, moving in sync as if they’ve know each others bodies for years. A litany of moans and curses leaves the pair’s mouths. Hands gripping hips, the thumping of skin against skin, lost to the sensations of each other, and the heady pleasure building between them.

  
We’ll be the end,   
Of your Sanity.

Harry comes first, head thrown back, eyes clenched shut, thick streams of come coating Remus’s chest. Remus watches the beautiful young man in awe. Harry’s muscles clenching around Remus, pushes him over the edge.

Exhausted Harry collapses forward onto Remus. He jerks back quickly, when he comes into contact with his own cooling come. Remus laughs at him, and slides out, causing Harry to jerk in surprise. They clean up and collapse on the bed, falling asleep in a tangle of limbs. One blissfully content. The other unaware of the monster curled up in his arms.

  
_We are real…_

_******_

**~Now~**

A loud noise draws Remus back to the present, and his current situation, images of flesh against flesh vividly replaying behind his eyes. To his utter embarrassment, he’s hard. His erection a heavy, hot weight between his legs. A blush suffuses his face at this realization. He prays his assailant doesn’t come in here and think he’s enjoying this whole fiasco.

He hears banging from another room. A kitchen he presumes, since it sounds like pans knocking together. A deep voice permeates the walls, as his captor sings to himself. A children’s lullaby that Remus hasn’t heard in years. He waits, body tensed, for the voice to draw closer, but it doesn’t. The sounds of running water start. He’s cooking or doing dishes.

To Remus’s bewilderment and annoyance, the ache between his legs has yet to dissipate. He forces himself to focus on the danger he’s in. The fear that courses through his veins at every sound from outside the room, and finally it begins to leave. Sighing in relief, Remus slumps back against the mattress, hoping his kidnapper will stay away for a while longer. Memory takes him again, and he dozes off lost in thoughts of everything that went wrong...

_******_

**~Before~**

Remus walks into his classroom on the first day of classes, exhilarated. The welcoming feast had been like a flashback to his time as a student here. It had been nice, but now he’s ready to be a teacher here, instead of a student.

As he sets out to write today’s agenda on the chalkboard, his mind drifts to thoughts of Harry. He hasn’t heard from or seen him since their one night together. Not that he’s tried to contact him, or that he even wants to. No, he hasn’t and doesn’t. It’s not like he has feelings for the young man or wants a relationship. No. There’s just something about the boy he couldn’t put his finger on.

He was great in personality and in bed, but there was something...off. In his eyes. In his movements. In his words. Of course he hadn’t realized this while it was happening. It was the next day, when he woke up alone, and then thought back over the night, that he saw it.

What had seemed polite the night before, now seemed cold. What had seemed charming, was now mischievous, as if there was a motive behind his actions, as if the actions themselves were...forced.

Of course, Remus had just chalked his conclusions up to too much alcohol when it happened and a nasty hangover as he looked back on it, but for some reason, he couldn’t shake the notion, and Remus had always prided himself on being a good judge of character.

“Insult to injury.” He murmurs to himself. Not only had he completely misjudged the kid’s character, now he couldn’t decide if he had or not. What happened to his amazing perception of humankind? He scoffs at himself, letting his mind drift back to Harry.

There were the kid’s eyes to consider, too. His hauntingly familiar green eyes. Where had he seen them before?

Shaking himself, Remus realizes he's been standing at the front of the classroom, a piece of chalk frozen mid-word, staring off into space. Sighing, he forces his thoughts away, and attempts to focus on what he’s writing instead.

His first three classes pass simply enough. He’s dedicated the first day to letting the kids ask him anything they want to know about him, so they can get it out of their systems since everyone’s always curious about the new guy in town, especially if it’s their teacher.

Then the students were to introduce themselves and tell a little bit about themselves as well, so he can get a feel for who he’ll be teaching. The last ten minutes or so of class he spends going over this semester’s syllabus.

So far, it’s been a success, only minor grumbling on the student’s part, and he’d learned quite a bit about them all. The fact that he remembered none of their names yet, was a given. Come on, there’s like two hundred students here. It’s going to take a while.

Now, he has one more class before it’s his lunch break. It’s his first group of seventh years, and having spent his morning with second and third years, he’s looking forward to an older group of kids, who can probably hold a decent conversation. He hears them filing in in groups of threes and fours, but doesn’t look up from what he’s writing.

The late bell rings, and he glances up at his students, seeing them all seated, he continues to write his notes for his last classes. He’s trying to keep a record of what his students are like and how they respond to certain situations, such as being asked to talk in front of the class.

It’s partly because he doesn’t want to force any of them into a situation they can’t handle, and partly because he’s working on a book analyzing human behavior. Still writing, he grabs the attendance roll and begins to call out names, grabbing another pen with his left hand he checks them off when they say here. Yeah, he’s the master of multitasking.

“Hermione Granger?”

“Here!” Checkmark.

He continues on like this calling out names, until…”Harry Potter?’

“Here, sir.” He freezes at the sound of that voice. A vivid image of a lithe body sinking down onto his cock, stuttering out, “F-fu-fuck!” flashes behind his eyes, but he  immediately forces himself to keep writing, so no one will notice his shock.

On the outside, he’s calm...collected, multitasking like the pro he is. On the inside, he’s freaking the fuck out. How the hell is he _here_? How the hell is he a _student_? _His_ student?

“Ronald Weasley?”

“Here!” Checkmark.

“Blaise Zabini?” He calls, glad he finally reached the end of the list.

“Here.” Checkmark, and _just keeping writing while you collect yourself_. He continues to write on the sheet detailing his last classes, but by now it’s just a bunch of nonsense.

On the inside, he’s slowly shoring up his mind, and acting like he’s never met his student, Harry fucking Pot- _Oh my god! No. Potter! Freaking Potter!_ As in James Potter, who married Lily Evans, his best fucking friend from fucking primary school, with green fucking eyes.

Full panic washes over him. He can see it now. The resemblance to James and Lily. The messy hair and chin line, both James. The green eyes and nose, were completely Lily. Oh god, he’s going to be sick. He slept with their _son!_

To the class, it looks like he’s uninterested in them at the moment, completely absorbed in his writing, which has in reality become the word, _FUCK_ , over and over. He sets his pen down gently, stacks his papers neatly on the corner of the desk.

Then he turns and smiles at the class, avoiding looking at the raven haired boy, sitting in the front row. “If you’ll excuse me. I need to make an urgent phone call. I’ll be right back. In the mean time, be thinking about what you’ll say when you introduce yourself to me. Behave and don’t lose my trust on the first day.” He smiles warmly at them, and turns walking calmly to his office at the back of the classroom.

Whispers break out behind him, as is to be expected, but he doesn’t acknowledge them. He closes the office door gently behind him, while the last bit of his calm shreds into a million tiny pieces.

Breaking into a dead run, he bursts into the small bathroom adjoining his office. He falls to his knees in front of the porcelain toilet, and vomits...violently. He’s freaking out, and when he has panic attacks like this...well, his stomach doesn’t stay put. Falling back onto his ass, Remus wipes at his mouth with a piece of toilet paper before tossing it in the toilet, flushing the contents.

He fists his hands into his hair. Calm down. He has to calm down, and get a grip. He has a class to teach. Five minutes later, a perfectly calm and presentable Remus Lupin exits his office, the class falling silent at his reappearance.

The next hour is hell, but he survives. He goes through it like it’s any other class, and he prides himself on not missing a beat, even when it’s Harry’s turn to introduce himself. At the end of the class, he calls Harry to stay behind, who does so willingly enough, waving his friends on.

The door shuts behind the last student, leaving a very uncomfortable Remus and a smirking Harry Potter alone. “Well, who would have thought?” Harry asks cockily, but it’s there again. Something off. Something not quite right.

Remus ignores it, “Who, indeed?” He murmurs. He glances up at Harry, holding his eyes in a serious gaze. “Do I need to even say that what happened can never happen again? I was unaware of the fact that you were my student at the time.”

“I wasn’t your student at the time, and I was and am of age, soooo...what’s done is done.” Harry responds, “Don’t worry. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

Remus feels peculiar at having his student, someone younger than him, assure him in such a patronizing tone that he in fact did nothing wrong. Remus sighs, shoving the thoughts away, “Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”

Harry smiles warmly, “Of course,” He says. “If that’s all…” He motions, half-heartedly to the door.

“Yes, yes. You can go.” Remus says. Harry turns to go, the smile never leaving his face, and Remus pretends that the smile was genuine. He pretends that he didn’t see Harry’s eyes flash with...something...less than happy when Remus had affirmed their understanding. He pretends that when he held eye contact with Harry, that behind that bright shine and charming boyishness, there wasn't the cold hearted nothing he saw. Because he didn’t see. He told himself over and over. He didn’t see a thing…

_******_

**~Now~**

Remus jerks awake, at the sound of the door opening. Someone walks inside, whistling a happy tune and scuffing their feet slightly along what sounds like hardwood floors. The whistle cuts off as something is sat down on a table. The loud clank of dishes settling, making Remus jump.

“Kinda jumpy there, aren’t cha Remy?” Harry asks, his voice mockingly dark. Remus flinches away from the sound, refusing to answer.

"Awww...now, don’t be like that,” Harry says, walking towards him. A hand trails from Remus’s ankle slowly up his body, bypassing his groin, and circling his nipple. He shrinks into the mattress trying to escape the light caress, but unable to.

The hand stops, cupping his cheek lightly...almost lovingly. “You know I love you don’t you.” He purrs. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’d never hurt y--” He stops, considering. “...well, okay I would,” He draws out the last word in a voice filled with sick amusement. “But I still love you. Doesn’t that count for anything?” He prods.

“No.” Remus growls, jerking his head away. Harry backhands him, almost flippantly, as if he did it without thought.

“Now. Now...That’s no way to treat someone who loves you,” He drawls. He reaches up and undoes the blindfold. Remus blinks rapidly, trying to adjust his eyes to the change in lighting.

Harry’s figure slowly comes into focus. Remus’s eyes widen as he takes in the shiny, silver blade Harry holds in his right hand, twirling it like a baton. Harry smirks knowingly, trailing the silver blade gently down Remus’s torso. Remus hisses in pain, a thin red line appears, blood seeping gently from the fresh wound.

“You won’t get away with this,” Remus growls, and flinches slightly when he realizes how cliche that sounds.

“Ah. Ah. Ah.” Harry coos, smiling a smile that comes no where close to reaching his eyes. “But I will.” He says all confidence.

Remus glares up at him, not buying it for a second. His coworkers would notice his absence and the Headmaster. I mean it’s not like he’d just decide not to show up for class one day.

Harry smiles, maliciously and as if he read his thoughts continues, “No one knows you’ve been taken. See...Monday morning, you left a letter of resignation on the Headmaster’s desk signed and everything. Even sealed with your own personal seal.” Remus’s face rapidly loses color, as he stares at the boy before him in dawning horror.

“Then there’s the fact that all your stuff was packed up neatly, and left with an address to ship to.” A malicious grin curves across Harry’s face. “They’re going to your flat by the way. I’ll pick them up tomorrow when it gets there.”

Remus watches in sick fascination as Harry twirls the knife expertly between his fingers. “Oh and then there’s the scandalous affair you admitted to in your resignation. It was with a student of age, so no one could press charges. You and that student ran off together, or at least that’s what they think. So not only is no one looking for you, they’re all _disgusted_ with you, as well.” He laughs, a full throated laugh, filled with pure amusement. “I’m amazing, aren’t I?”

Remus stares at him in horror, as the reality of the situation sinks in. Harry smiles down at him, “Now, it’s time to eat. Don’t want you getting weak, now do we?” He walks over and gets the tray off the dresser. Remus eats willingly, too hungry to argue and too lost in his state of shock to even consider arguing. He realizes something’s wrong when the world starts to blur in and out of focus.

“Wh-h-” He tries to push his tongue to work.

The last thing he sees before the world goes black, is Harry’s smirking face. “So easy to drug.” He murmurs. Remus feels fingers pull gently through his hair and lips pressing lightly to his forehead. “Sleep tight, Remy.” Is the last thing he hears before the world disappears and with it his consciousness.

_******_

**~Before~**

After the first class, Harry became just another student. Remus suppressed any other memories of him, treating him just like everybody else. Every once in awhile, he’d see something in Harry’s facial expression, something flash behind his eyes, something in his voice that would unsettle him. That would remind him of his earlier fears, but he ignored it. He went against his better judgment, and just left it alone.

He didn’t want to know. Well, that’s what he told himself anyway. You know what they say: Curiosity killed the cat, and he had no intention of drudging up whatever was going on with that boy. Though, Remus did have to force himself to believe that no, satisfaction would not in fact bring him back.

As time passed, weird things began to happen. Remus would feel like there were eyes on him when he was alone. He’d be doing patrols at night, and he could swear that someone was following him. His belongings in his room seemed to move around on their own.

He’d know for a fact that he left his phone on the kitchen table only to find it on the counter instead. Sometimes things would only be moved fractionally. A photoframe a few centimeters farther to the left than normal.

He couldn’t quite convince himself it was paranoia either. When stuff started disappearing altogether, he became extremely worried. A picture of him no longer in its frame. A favorite shirt no longer hanging up. A scented candle, no longer in its holder.

Fear grew inside him, but for some reason he didn’t want to go to anyone about it. Maybe it was just fear that his escapades with a student would come to light. Maybe he was still in denial. He wasn’t sure.

Three months into the school year, he was getting out of the shower when he saw the bathroom light glint against something above the mirror. He froze, thinking it was his imagination, but decided to check, just in case.

Nestled above the mirror, in an almost completely hidden nook, with the perfect view of the whole bathroom was a camera. Ice cold fear filled his veins. He ripped it from its spot and smashed it on the floor, breaking it into a million tiny shards. When the camera was completely obliterated he fell to the floor, hands knitted into his hair, willing himself not to throw up.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours, but when he eventually stood he was under control again. He quickly got dressed and scoured his apartment from top to bottom, finding four more hidden cameras, one in every room.

He smashed them all and discarded of the pieces. He couldn’t tell anyone. He didn’t want anyone to know about his night with Harry. It would ruin his reputation, so he resigned himself to be on red alert. It never crossed his mind to wonder if it could be anyone but Harry. There was no evidence it was the boy he had a one night stand with, but somehow he just knew it was, and he never once thought different.

A month later, he was jumped on his way back to his classroom. Strong arms surrounded him, a wet rag held over his mouth and nose. He fought and breathed in the fumes, vision going black, muscles going weak.

He never stood a chance.

Two days later, he woke up naked and spread eagle on a stranger’s bed, never having seen his assailant, but never doubting that it was Harry.

_******_

**~Now~**

He comes to slowly. His senses coming one by one.

First the weight of his limbs, tied to the bed posts. Feeling, slowly traveling up each of them, until he could feel his whole body.

Sound came next, the soft humming of someone nearby, as they wandered around the room doing God knows what.

Taste followed. His tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. He was desperately parched, his lips cracked and his mouth tasting dry and sandy like a desert.

His smell returned soon after, bringing to him the unfamiliar scent of someone else's house, sweet and cloying, clogging his nostrils, making him desperate for fresh air.

And finally he found his sight. Blinking his eyes open, to a dimly lit room. The same one he fell asleep in earlier.

“Oh, your awake!” Harry exclaims, like a child on Christmas morning. He bounds over to the bed, and flops down on it beside Remus, pressing his clothed body against the line of Remus’s naked one. He props his chin up on Remus’s chest, greens eyes staring eagerly up at the man.

Harry begins to talk without prompting, and Remus comes to the conclusion that he likes the sound of his own voice. He rattles on about nothing and everything, like they’re old friends instead of kidnappee and kidnapper. Remus finally interrupts his stream of nonsense, with a croaked out, “Why?”

Harry pauses a look of confusion on his face before it clicks, “Ohhh...why you? Why’d I do this?”

Remus nods, hesitantly. “Weelll….I’m probably a sociopath,” his brow furrows, “Or maybe a charismatic psychopath?” He says, tilting his head to the side like a puppy. “Either way, it’s cause I wanted to, and I liked you, so why not?” Remus stares at him wide-eyed, having expected a better reason than _because I wanted to._

“Yeah, I know.” Harry says, “My reasoning is really lacking, eh?” He smiles, laughing at himself. “It could be worse.” He says.

Remus raises his eyebrows at this. Harry’s smile takes on a wicked glint. “You see...when I was four years old, I saw my mum and dad murdered. Good old Tom Riddle, decided if my dad couldn’t pay his debt, then he’d murder him and his family.”

Remus’s eyes widen more at this, pity seeping into his defenses. He’s saddened by the thought of Lily dying so tragically. Lily from his childhood. Harry keeps talking, “Mum hid me in a closet, and I watched through the slants in the doors as they were tortured to death. The real kicker is that I wasn’t scared or horrified. No, no, no. I enjoyed it. Four years old and liking the sight of my parent’s dying.” Any pity Remus felt floods out of him in a rush, a new sort of apprehension taking it’s place.

“Sirius Black, my godfather, was accused of giving up their location to Tom and sentenced to jail as an accessory to murder. I got shipped off to my abusive relatives the Dursleys' where I was locked in a cupboard most days. When I was thirteen I found out it was actually Peter Pettigrew who gave up their location. He got sent to jail instead and Sirius was released. Sirius took me in, so one night...I was almost fourteen by this point...I went back to the Dursleys' and tortured them all to death. Couldn’t have them living after treating me so shittily.” He says matter-of-factly.

“Pettigrew escaped prison the next year. I hunted him down, and killed his as karmic justice or whatever. I found Tom a couple months after that, and offed him, too. It was surprisingly easy to do, considering how high up he was. His guards were so easy to get past.” He’s seems to be lost in thought at this point, and Remus is quite frankly disturbed.

“Umm...how come you didn’t get caught?” He asks, not even sure he wants to know.

“Because the authorities are idiots and I’m not.” He says, smiling wickedly down at him. “Oh, and I poisoned Sirius last year, when he started trying to act all parental. Like come on. Just, no.”

Remus blinks, unsure of what to say to that. “You’re my next experiment.” He says, smiling. “I didn’t find you on accident. I remembered my mum talking about her old best friend, Remy Lupin, and I had to meet you! Then I heard you were teaching at Hogwarts, so I was like I’ve gotta see him before class starts, annndd then I saw you, and altered my plans since you were hot, and here we are.” He says it so matter-of factly, as if it’s a given, a law of nature.

Remus shifts uncomfortably, terrified from this new information about his captor, and to his relief, Harry springs to his feet. “I’ll be back.” He says abruptly, leaving the room.

Remus sags against his bindings. He’s been kidnapped by a complete lunatic, who’s killed every adult in his life and then some.

Harry comes back a few minutes later, smiling broadly. “I just called my realtor, and she...I’m rich by the way...she sealed a deal for this private island. We’re leaving tomorrow, and then we’ll have a whole island to ourselves.” He claps his hands together in excitement before sauntering over to Remus. He leans over him, knife in his hand again, pressing it gently to Remus’s neck, drawing a small drop of blood.

Remus flinches away from the green eyes, moments ago filled with joy, now flat and dead, “And then you’ll never leave me again.” He coos quietly, lips brushing Remus’s. He abruptly stands up, pulls the currents across from the bed open and leaves the room.

Remus lays on the bed stunned and scared. He gazes out the now bare window and up into the night sky. The full moon stares back at him, surrounded by a halo of twinkling stars.

An old fear returns, slowly overshadowing the new.

Mockingly the moon declares that there are monsters everywhere. Real ones you see. They don’t have claws or fangs. They look just like you and me.

And Remus knows, without a doubt that monsters lurk in the dark, under the full moon’s light, and he happens to be lying in one’s lair.

Because they are without a doubt real.

_We are real…_

**~Fin~**

**Author's Note:**

> I am currently working on a Prequel to this story showing Harry's descent into darkness, so if you're interested come back and look for it. I don't know when it'll be up, but hopefully not too long from now. It'll be added into a Collection with this story.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> ~Drarry_Scarred~


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